Dance
by shialuvr222
Summary: When Holmes shows up at a high-society event Irene is attending, she assumes he's there to ruin her plans for the evening's heist. Instead, he asks her to dance.


A/N: I started this a little while ago and then I kind of forgot about it, and it's been sitting on my computer for God-knows how long. I just opened it up today. I wanted to post something on 12/12/12, and I'm a little late, but it's finished, so. Tell me what you think!

XXX

Loud, ostentatious noblemen laughed heartily at their own tales between puffs of their cigars, sitting in a well-lit corner close to the roaring fireplace. Their wives gossiped amongst themselves in the powder room down the hall as they ensured their wigs were set securely in place. Meanwhile, the younger guests busied themselves on the extensive, shining dance floor as the musicians played a lively swing. The host of the gathering watched contentedly from his seat as the most prestigious party in London took place in his ballroom.

In the midst of all this was a woman, by all appearances harmless and sweet. Her curly auburn hair framed her pale face, and there were a minimum of four suitors vying for her attention. A blush accompanied her shy smile, which revealed perfectly straight ivory teeth complemented by her cherry red lips. She giggled innocently, as though surprised that the young men were interested in dancing with her, but stood and made her way to the dance floor with the first. He smirked triumphantly at his competitors and began to waltz as the music changed.

If he had known the identity of his charming companion, he wouldn't have been smug for very long. His mistake was not checking his waistcoat for his pocketbook until hours later; by the time the song was halfway over, it was hidden within the folds of her dress. It sat in a hidden pocket next to the spoils of the evening's heist, an eighty-six carat diamond the size of a tablespoon. What was once the property of Sir William Berkeley was now in the capable hands of Miss Irene Adler.

She smiled as she danced, an action that her partner interpreted as a result of his presence. She tuned out his boasts and looked around the room, considering how well the night's thievery went. It had taken her less than eight minutes to sneak away and snatch the jewel, and she would be paid handsomely for her work.

As she glanced over the inhabitants of the room, she came to realize that a pair of chocolate eyes were watching her from across the room. It didn't take her long to realize that they were very familiar. Holmes was here.

A wave of panic passed over her as she grasped that he was aware of her purpose here. She excused herself from the dance, trying to remain calm as she hurried to the foyer. The servants were in the kitchen, and therefore absent from the room, so she rooted through the piles of coats and handbags, looking for her purse. She was too apprehensive to even steal the obscene amounts of cash from the other guests' pocketbooks.

"Leaving so soon?"

She jumped, spinning around with a gasp to face the owner of the voice. There was Holmes, a lopsided grin on his face. He always wore it when he knew he had her trapped.

And trapped she was. He had stationed himself between her and the door, and there wasn't a back way. She smiled, trying to camouflage her inner turbulence.

"Well, my dance partner was rather dull, and I need to catch a train."

"I see. It had nothing to do with your nerves."

"What reason have I to be nervous?"

"None, of course." He stuck his hands in his pockets and began to slowly pace, faking oblivion to her uncomfortable situation. "And I imagine that, if Scotland Yard were to make an appearance, you would have nothing to be nervous of either."

"You called Scotland Yard?"

"Of course not."

"Then why are you here?"

"Simply put: Because you are at a disadvantage, and I did not wish to miss it."

She answered slowly. "And how do you plan on using your information?"

"I don't suspect I shall need it. I had planned on simply asking." He gave her a tight smile.

She narrowed her eyes. "You want to ask me to give you the diamond?"

"I want to ask you to dance."

She studied his face. He seemed to be telling the truth, but she never knew with Holmes. Despite her hesitation, she found herself taking his hand as soon as he extended it.

As he lead her back to the floor, a thousand thoughts were running through her mind, but most prevalent was what to do if the missing jewelry was noticed while she was still there. She hadn't planned on staying so long, and she had no way of knowing whether or not Scotland Yard was actually on their way.

None of that showed on her face, of course. On the outside, she was all smile and charm – but he could see right through that, couldn't he? He always did, and she couldn't fathom how.

The dance was fast, but his pace was faster, and Irene couldn't help but think that he was trying to get her to stumble. This was far from her first difficult partner, however, and she kept her cool admirably. When he told her as much, all she could do was smile.

"Miss Adler," he commented casually, as the music slowed, "You have a deplorable knack for taking things that don't belong to you."

"Mr. Holmes," came her quick reply, "You have an annoying talent of getting in my way."

"If you didn't indulge in such immoral practices, I wouldn't have to."

"If you didn't insist on being a law-abiding citizen, you wouldn't feel the need."

"The law hardly has to do with morality, nor my motivation to intervene in your line of work."

"Then what is your motivation?"

He paused before offering an answer, despite the knowledge that she already knew what he would say. "I enjoy puzzles. It keeps my mind occupied."

She smiled, something behind her eyes that her companion couldn't quite identify. "I see no puzzle here." She leaned in close, placing her mouth beside his ear. "So what motivation did you have to be here?"

The music ended. Sherlock smiled.

Two dances. That's all he kept her for. One fast and one slow, and both lasting just long enough to ensure her inconvenience in reaching the train station on time. He accompanied her back to the foyer, locating her purse immediately amidst the mass of other guests' personal belongings.

"Thank you for this," she said politely, "And thank you for the dances."

"A pleasure, madam." He certainly enjoyed acting the gentleman, but she didn't miss the twinkle of mischevy hidden in his eyes.

"Watch yourself, Sherlock." She planted a light kiss on his stubbled cheek. He opened the door for her, and Irene felt his gaze follow her as she descended the steps to her waiting cab.

That was when she felt it.

Her pocket was empty.

She looked back at the house to see his figure silhouetted in the doorway, a dark shape surrounded by the cheery yellow light. She narrowed her eyes and grinned before turning and climbing into the cab, relatively sure that Holmes was wearing the same satisfied expression as always.

_Until next time, Mr. Holmes._

XXX

A/N: Please leave a review!


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